


call me yours

by chwepen



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Oral Sex, Smut, but yknow what can you do with uni!vernon, theres a lot going on in this fic aaa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwepen/pseuds/chwepen
Summary: You weren’t exactly perfect at no strings attached, but jealousy and deeper feelings threaten to tear the entire deal apart.





	call me yours

 

“Friends with benefits” meant being beneficial yet friendly, coming with rules that meant no attachment or feelings beyond physical attraction. Then again, you and Hansol weren’t that committed to the rules that came with such an agreement, or rules in general.

The best work-study positions were in the university’s radio station. Only a couple of students made the cut, but with your experience and charm, you managed to score an assistant job for the main disk jockey. That was when Hansol popped into your life with a gummy smile and energetic appreciation.  He was magic behind the microphone, like his own world revolved around his small desk surrounded by wires and records and stopped moving when he left. But slowly, you discovered who he really was, learning how he loved being involved in music and wanted to write songs after college. In exchange, you told him how you were majoring in journalism and hoped to travel the world. It took three months before a drunk kiss outside of your apartment door changed everything, and then you both were inseparable. It wasn’t a relationship, but it meant something, and you stopped there.

He waits for you before going to the station hand in hand, walks with you to classes if he stayed the night before because he was too tired to go home, and even surprises you with family sized snacks and movies. While he’s skilled in giving benefits, he’s even better at being there for you, regardless of whether you’re with each other exclusively.

Being interested in other people didn’t bother either of you much. Dates were simply dates, and making out never hurt anyone. But you both agreed anything more than that was out of the question. Your friends would say it was because you cared too much to think about each other with other people intimately. It was more because he was more than enough to keep you satisfied. Maybe they were partially right, but you didn’t give it much thought. While you both defined it as nothing more than being close friends with the added rewards of an intimate relationship, anyone could tell you it was more. Even when you noticed, you never acted on it.

Getting hurt and personal fears were only two of the reasons neither him nor you ever let yourselves go deeper, even though you both knew the ins and outs of each other. It was never said, but leaving it at what it was had to be better than watching it fall apart. Having Hansol in your life mattered more than trying for more with a stranger.

* * *

Kwon Soonyoung was the best dancer in the university, but he was the worst at calculus. His skills on stage couldn’t save him from equations. Your professor assigning you to him for tutoring helped him learn the information better than he could on his own. The fact that was kind and funny despite his frustrations made you like him more.

“I don’t get this,” Soonyoung grumbles as his jabs his pen into the page in front of him, as though the numbers will go away if he presses hard enough.

“Soonyoung, you can do it. Just try the method we talked about last session.” You smile with your hand underneath your chin, hoping the encouragement gives him the push to solve the problem on his own.

With a minute of concentration and simmering confusion, he navigates the question and feels immense joy when you check it over and see he did it right. “You’re the best! No other tutor in this entire university can work your magic.”

“Oh please, I just know my way with math. So what?”

“A huge  _what_! Do you know how screwed I was before you started working with me? Now I’m actually passing with a high C. I owe you so much.” He scoots out of his seat to give you a strong hug, and you laugh into the space of his shoulder, happy he’s proud of himself and getting somewhere.

“Hey.” You turned your head to the sound of a voice you knew from miles away. Choi Hansol, radio head and disk jockey, hands in his jean jacket pockets, a backpack slung over his arm, and his old headphones wrapped around his neck. He always looked great, even if he blushed and didn’t believe you when you told him. Instantly, you were smiling.

“Hey, Han! You know Soonyoung, right?”

“Yeah, dance major. You hang out with Chan, right? He’s a friend of mine.”

“Right! Good to see you again, Hansol. I checked out your set yesterday. It was great.” The boys shake hands, and you’re surprised at how formal both of them are being for young college boys. “Are you going to the party at Mingyu’s? I can’t make it because of rehearsals but I’m sure Chan invited you?” You turn your head to Hansol, confused why he didn’t tell you before.”

His stare tells as much as his response does. “ _Small_ party, and yeah. I mean it won’t be too big, and it’s just music majors, so I’m sure you won’t miss anything.”

You grin and start packing up your things as Soonyoung and Hansol engage in more small talk. It’s tight-lipped on Hansol’s end, mostly because you can tell he’s a bit jealous of the hug he saw minutes ago. If only he knew how ridiculous he could be when he stayed in his head. 

“Well, this was fun guys, but you and I have to go.” You poke Hansol in the chest before checking your watch, knowing the two of you will be late to the station if you don’t leave the library immediately. “I’ll see you later, Soonyoung. Practice with that sheet I gave you!”

* * *

The walk to your apartment after your shift at the radio station is quiet, Hansol’s hand in yours up until you have to open your door and put your shoes near the entrance. Fatigue sets into your skin, and while you’d normally fall onto the couch and settle in for a nap, Hansol wraps a hand around you to bring you closer to him. You take him in, the scent of mint gum on his breath igniting a charge you didn’t feel before.

“So, Soonyoung is a friend of yours,” Hansol asks, his hand touching the small of your back and moving in small circles. You’re breathless from the distance, but you try to talk anyway.

“Yeah, we have calculus together. It’s hard seeing him struggle in class, but he’s sweet. Tutoring is easy with him somehow cause I know with a little more effort—”

A kiss to your lips silences you, pulling you deeper to him and not letting you go. Your hands immediately wrap around his neck while you fall deeper into him, his body clinging to yours without question. Hansol’s lips move to the space of your cheek and down to your neck as your back hits the island in the middle of your kitchen. Without warning, he grips the back of your thighs and sets you on top of it, his eyes level with yours before kissing you again.

“Hansol,” you whine as he crinkles your cotton shirt until it bunches underneath your bra. You didn’t feel his hands on your sides until the cold air hits your stomach, but the warmth he gives off keeps you from shaking. He places a soft kiss to the exposed skin when he drops to his knees, level with the granite and  a dark flicker in his expression. It’s a sight you’ve seen before, but the charge of his jealousy and locked gaze on you makes it feel like the first time.

“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Hansol says with his hands falling to the strip of skin above your jeans, fingers gripping the top of the denim and threatening to pop the buttons and leave you bare. Even though his touch is light and careful like he’s unwrapping something new, it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen or touched before.

“I don’t want Soonyoung, Hansol. I want you. I always want you.”

Like the magic words graced his ears, he tugs down both your pants and underwear in the same move down your legs. Your breathing unravels, thoughts racing with desire and want. He knows how eager you are in the way your body shakes, and denying you anymore pleasure wouldn’t be a good idea. Centering his head between your legs, the sudden contact of his mouth against your core flutters your eyelids to a close and your body reacts to meet his touch, melting and feeling the sweet edge in each glide of his tongue.

“You’re so wet already,” he praises when he pulls away, the beautiful sight only for him and because of him. Kisses color the inner space of your thighs and trail back to where you want him, always. His finger teases your folds as his mouth spends time on your clit, kissing and sucking to make your hips buck up to meet every movement. Even though it’s enough to pleasure you, the ache for more takes over.

“Don’t play with me, Han. Not if you don’t plan to finish this in my kitchen.” You try to sound witty, but the breaks and gasps caught in your throat tell him you prefer a soft bed over a kitchen countertop.

Your heart is in your mouth as his arms grip you tightly again. He carries you towards your bedroom and kicks the door open with his foot, not roughly but strong enough for it to hit the stopper with a loud bump. His stamina always surprises you. Maybe his eagerness to remind you what he could do—for you  _and_  to you—pushes him to drive you crazy with every action. Either way, you’re aching for him to have you.

You welcome the softness of the comforter underneath your back once he drops you, soft and giving you support while you throw your shirt and bra on the floor. Hansol looks down at you, finally naked, and the glint in his eyes tells you completely how deep his desire to have you goes. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

You thank yourself for being so strict with your birth control once he removes his clothes, slowly and painfully as you see each piece of his skin reveal itself. Despite your brain knowing being as safe as possible matters most, you argue in your head the slightest constriction by extra protection would ruin the fun of having him within you completely. And it’s even better feeling him press your body to his once he slides into you, slowly and with a need only he possesses.

“Hansol, fuck. You feel so good,” you curse in satisfaction, his sudden thrust in having you whimper and call out to him. He releases a hard breath in response, finding a steady rhythm when he gets used to feeling you completely. He pumps into you harder, and your mouth falls open to release little gasps and cries, calls of his name accompanying them. You don’t know how long you’ve been in bed, but you could live off the feelings swelling in your body for days.

With both hands on your hips to hold himself up, he picks up momentum and says your name in the midst of his own groans. The curve of his body meets and matches yours in each motion, and for a second you think about how the pieces of him fit you perfectly, moving in and out in the best rhythm. “You’re so amazing, just like this,” he pants as his lips dive into your neck and leave a blossoming mark, nipping and sucking before he meets your eyes again. “Absolutely perfect.”

A perfectly sharp flex in his hips claws a moan out of your throat, and you know the tightening of the string inside of you doesn’t need more time to snap. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop.”

Every touch to your skin lights you on fire. He knows every dip and edge of your body, and he only has to put in minor concentration to drive you crazy. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as his hand reaches between your bodies, rubbing fast circles into your clit to bring you to your orgasm faster. That, his continued thrusting, and a sudden suck at your collarbone turns everything to white.

The fall hits you fast and brings you down, drowning out the moans and curses that leave your throat as you sink deeper. You’re sinking and flying at the same time, bursts of colors crossing your vision and leaving you dizzy. It’s a fulfilling and carnal feeling, and Hansol giving it all to you and riding out each second of your pleasure makes it all the more enjoyable.

Your orgasm pushes Hansol to his own, his hips stalling and his mouth agape at the similar sensations you felt moments before as he releases. He gives in to every ounce he can before stalling his hips, both of your breathing erratic and getting used to the aftermath.

As you’re still catching your breath, his eyes focus on yours with half-lidded content. You flush and smile affectionately at him, fulfilled without saying anything. You don’t stop smiling even when he leans in to kiss you, and it only fades when you both sigh and moan into each other’s mouths, his hands running over your body beneath the sheets while yours grip onto the curves of his shoulders.

It was clear you wouldn’t be leaving bed soon, but you didn’t care when you were blissfully happy with the only boy who made you feel happiness in its purest form.

* * *

 _Cheol’s Sweet Treats_ took up a small part of your Fridays and Saturdays. The extra money helped for little expenses and pleasure purchases you indulged in once in awhile. While you loved working at the station, a bit more income didn’t hurt, and ice-cream was delicious on any occasion.

Joshua as your coworker was a different story. Most days, he was hilarious and easy-going. Other days, he wouldn’t shut up about Hansol and how you were oblivious to what was going on in the romantic department. You hoped each day Josh would let you do your shift without a headache, but despite giving you one without fail, he made you laugh without fail.

While stocking the display with more ice-cream, the bell above the door rings and dashes your hopes of leaving early. “That’s not the reaction workers should have to customers.”

You look away from the ice cream tins to the boy walking in, stealing your breath and making you smile.  _Of course_. “What brings you to  _Cheol’s_ , sir?” 

Hansol grins and rests his arms against the glass. “I had free time and I was in the neighborhood.”

“You sure about that? Last time I checked, the college was an hour away.” It was terribly inconvenient, but Joshua offering free rides made it a lot easier to get to your weekend job. Then again, some days taking the bus weren’t fun either.

“Okay, maybe I just wanted to pick you up from work. Is that so bad?”

You blush and shake your head, knowing the small gesture makes your heart beat a bit harder in your chest. “So, can I get you anything?”

“Hm…how about one really cute counter girl with a side of tacos for dinner?”

You laugh, humorously studying the menu before responding to him. “Well, I’m sure we can get that for you, but I recommend adding ‘in bed’ to the end of your order. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the suggestion.”

“I like the way you think.”

“Give me a half hour?”

Hansol sits down patiently at one of the small corner booths, typing away on his phone and headphones probably blaring a recent song he checked out for his setlist. In an instant, your focus is on him. He always pushes himself, and it’s easy to feel swept up in the concentration he carries. From the quirk in his brow to the small bit of his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he grabs your attention without noticing or trying.

“You  _love_  him,” Josh sings while wiping down the counter on the opposite side of the register, smirking from ear to ear. You barely noticed him come in from the back room, but your response sits right on your tongue.

“I do not, and next time you wanna make jokes or butt in my relationship I’ll be more than happy to tell Seungcheol you steal peanut butter cones on your lunch break.”

“Okay, first of all, harsh. You know those damn cones are amazing,” Josh spits, tossing his rag in your direction. “Second,  _relationship_? Never heard you use that word before.” The realization makes you step back a breath, wondering if you really used the word or not. Josh gives you a cheshire grin in response to your shock, but you don’t let it phase you, only believing it was a small slip. “Third, I was gonna share vital information about your boy toy and the party Saturday, but if you don’t want it-”

“I already heard about it, wise ass. And I don’t think I’ll miss much. Han said it was just a get together of just music majors.”

“Well, I heard there was gonna be a ton of other people going…and not just from the music department, pal.” The new information leaves a pit in your stomach. You never knew Hansol to lie, but you didn’t deny feeling stupid for not knowing everything. It was easy to trust him, but if he didn’t want to tell you about a party, what else was he not saying?

* * *

The walk to the parking garage is a little far from the ice cream shop, but it isn’t unbearably hot outside and the nice stroll amidst the quiet bustle of downtown is worth the time getting there. It also gives you the opportunity to ask about the party. Speaking about it makes Hansol tense up, but he plays it off immediately. “I mean, it’s not gonna be too big. Mingyu loves to party, but I’m sure trashing his place this early in the semester wouldn’t be fun to clean up.”

“Han, you can tell me the truth.” You’re scared he’ll say more than you want to hear, but you have to know what’s on his mind, get-together or not.

“Well, someone’s coming with me,” Hansol mumbles to himself, his grip on your hand a bit tighter in fear you’ll push him away.  _Someone_. It shouldn’t strike a cord in you, and you definitely shouldn’t care, but you do. “Her name’s Minkyung.” 

 _Minkyung._ She sits behind you in Mass Communication, the only class you and Hansol share together. You barely notice her, but when you do talk to her in discussion, she’s fairly nice and very intelligent. To wrap it all up, she’s gorgeous. You feel the deepest gash in your chest at the sound of her name on his lips.

You remind yourself it shouldn’t be so hard to accept, since it’s clear Hansol isn’t yours, not completely. Still, you hate the thought of her in your head. Trying your best to smile while pushing away images of them together, you clear your throat and respond with as little as possible. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

“If it’s not okay with you—”

“Hansol, it’s fine, really. I mean, if you don’t want me to go that’s okay. Having your date and the girl you’ve been screwing in the same place sounds like a big inconvenience.”

“It’s not like that and you know it.” His face morphs into a mixture of a pout and a glare, clearly believing your opinion of the situation is wrong and over the line in theatrics. To hide your displeasure at his response and your insincere understanding, you laugh and shrug it off without much attention.

“Kidding. Lighten up!” You wink, your hand squeezing his and your feet walking harder on the way to the car. While you try to sound light, your heart feels heavy with each step. Hansol can sense it too, the tension causing him to stop on the sidewalk.

His eyes, golden brown and beautiful, turn to something earnest. They never hide his emotions, always giving away what he wants to say even if his words can’t do it for him. It keeps you on your toes often, and feeling his stare pierce into you deeper doesn’t help. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”

“I thought we said—”

“I know. I know you say you don’t care, and I know the deal we made getting into this. But no matter how many dates I go on, nights with you are never gonna change, and if they ever could, I wouldn’t go.” He wraps his arms around you and brings you closer, the scent of vanilla ice-cream floating in the air. You allow yourself to give in, only a small tear escaping your eye, confused at why the prospect of him being with someone else hurts you more than it did before. “Nobody could replace you.” The words are reassuring, and for a moment, you don’t think about anyone else besides him.

After coming home and making good on your promises, you study him as he sleeps, the parts of his bangs meeting some of his eyelashes. With your sheets and comforter barely covering your bodies, you kiss the hollow of his throat and outline shapes across his chest, unsure of what your heart really wants from him.

* * *

Soonyoung’s canceled rehearsals gave you the perfect excuse to take him to the party, knowing he owed you after helping him ace his midterms. The party is in full swing by the time you arrive, colorful lights blasting through the apartment and music surrounding the living room. When you enter Mingyu’s place, Soonyoung yells over the music about how glad he is to spend time with you away from textbooks. Sadly for him, you don’t want more than his friendship. And selfishly, you only want him by your side to throw in someone’s face.

A minute passes before you find Hansol in the corner, whispering a string of words into Minkyung’s ear and smiling at her reaction. She giggles and clinks the cup in her hands with his, and you see red. Your heart gnaws at itself and wants to erase the sight from your mind. Your vision doesn’t straighten until Chan runs by and greets you, effectively pushing a grin back on your face. “Hey! I didn’t expect you to come tonight. With Soonyoung!”

Chan’s a great friend, smart guy, and amazing dancer, and while he doesn’t know too much about your relationship, he knows enough that Soonyoung wrapped arm and arm with you is different.

“Great to see you too! We’re gonna go grab drinks!” You hold on tighter to your friend on your way to the kitchen as you pass the corner Hansol’s still settled in, and you wonder if he sees you. Soonyoung mentions something about dance practice and integration by substitution, but your thoughts wander away.

Occupying yourself in the kitchen with a few other people, you actually laugh and let yourself relax. Always working and taking classes took a toll, one you didn’t see often. It’s fairly quiet and vacant, and it leaves room to talk and let loose without the bustle of the party in your face. With just you and Soonyoung, it isn’t as painful as you thought it would be. 

Soonyoung turns back to you once he gets a refill. “Thanks for letting me come with you. I mean, we just got here, but I’m having fun with my best math sidekick.”

“Math sidekick? I’m more like your math savior. Besides, flying solo to this would’ve been the worst, so thanks for coming with me.” You clink the plastic cups and drink to your equal measure of gratitude. But Hansol’s stride into the kitchen almost ruins your sip when you feel yourself choke on the alcohol. He says your name, and you place your drink on the counter and look at him, equally upset and angry.

“Excuse me, Soonyoung. I clearly need to talk to Hansol really quick.” You grab Hansol’s hand and pull him into the hallway, the sound of people in the bathroom and bedroom a bit distracting, but you don’t mind. You meet his eyes, and you can’t hide the hurt in your voice. “What?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m at a party with a friend. Just like you, right? Oh wait, no. You have a date, sorry.” You don’t bother hiding what you’re feeling. Maybe making him jealous would do some good for your heart and sanity, but his confusion pisses you off to a greater degree.

He says your name again, this time in exasperation. “Don’t do this.” Frustration doesn’t look good on him, but your jealousy and the alcohol care less about how he feels.

“C’mon  _Vernon_ , it’s a party. Where’s your spirit?” You never called him by his jockey name, knowing who he is and who he works as are almost two entirely different people. Saying the name feels foreign, and to use it out of spite makes you feel worse. You notice the tightness of his jaw glimmer under the colored lights before he walks back to the living room, leaving you feeling worse than you imagined. You walk back to the kitchen and sit on the countertop, speechless and muddled.

Soonyoung grins and drinks the last of his alcohol. “He really likes you. This’ll be fun.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughs to himself and stands closer. “C’mon, seeing you two together, I know one of the reasons you brought me here was to piss him off. Lucky for you, you’re my friend, you’re cute, and I’m down to play.” He extends a hand and tightens his hold when you grab it, clearly excited by your intrigue in his game. “Let’s go.” 

There are other people on the makeshift dance-floor in the living room, some drunk and others trying to actually dance. Soonyoung sets you both right in the middle of it all, and you realize why the dance teachers and students admire him so much when he starts moving. His body is like water, his arms wrapping around you all while his focus centers on you. You can’t lie and say you aren’t attracted to him, but you know it stops firmly at attraction.

You push and pull, fall into him and let him take control. When you’re practically panting from all the swaying, you feel a small charge between your bodies. Even if it’s just the alcohol, you test it anyway. “Kiss me.” 

The pant in your voice turns Soonyoung’s lips up into the shape of a smirk before they tease and press to yours. His mouth isn’t like Hansol’s, domineering and not as gentle, but it’s enjoyable. You punish yourself silently for Hansol being your first thought, but you try to scratch it out of your mind and relax, even if some part of you feels it’s wrong.

Chan’s yell comes before the push Hansol gives to Soonyoung, effectively separating you both. While you gain your mental balance, the floor shakes from two bodies falling down hard.

“Hansol, Soonyoung, stop it!” It’s as if you’re an outsider looking in, and the words that plead for them to stop aren’t yours.  _You caused this_ , you tell yourself with anger. Jealousy got the best of you, and it led to the one person you care about getting a fist to the face.

“Get off of him!” You dive into the mess to protect what parts of Hansol’s body you can, and the sudden guard lets Wonwoo, another friend and Mingyu’s boyfriend, cut in and yank Soonyoung away from the scene.

Soonyoung gets up with a cut on his fist and his nose dripping with blood, but Hansol doesn’t look any better. A scrape from where he was punched blooms across his cheek, and red paints the corner of his lip. You assume Soonyoung hit him a second time, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is getting Hansol away from the party and back to his apartment. Minkyung is nowhere in sight, and you wonder if Hansol sent her away or she just didn’t want to involve herself in the mess.

“Han, it’s me, okay? We’re getting out of here, and I’m gonna clean you up. Can you keep your eyes open?” You press a hand to his face, some of his blood touching your fingers.

“A little. The room is spinning,” Hansol laughs to himself, the small patch of blood near his mouth trickling down his chin. You wipe it away with your hand while the opposite one puts his arm around your shoulder, and his head lolls back and forth without purpose. Chan helps you while you go down to Hansol’s car. “You look pretty tonight. I didn’t say it before. I should’ve.”

“The night’s still young. You can tell me a hundred times later. Right now, let’s go home.”

* * *

“I bet you didn’t think I was a lover  _and_ a fighter,” Hansol chuckles, the pain in his gut reminding him not to do much for now besides talk. He clutches the patch of skin covering his ribs, and you know the fall was a lot harder than he expected. 

You remove the cotton swab from his lip, and you hand him a packet of cold peas to put to his cheek, hoping his face won’t swell or bruise too much. “I think you’re an idiot.”

“I’m  _your_ idiot, if that helps.” Even in the worst times, he loves to joke around. 

Unfortunately for him, you weren’t in the mood to be funny, especially when he was hurt and you were both clearly upset before the fight happened. “Hansol, why would you fight him? I’m not saying you’re not strong, but it’s not you. Why?”

“That stupid kiss. Really, was it to just get back at me? It worked, you got what you wanted.” He sets the packet beside him, his hand still on the plastic and clenching hard. “I hated it, even though I had no right to. I know what we are, and I know that your love life is none of my business, but seeing it made me sick, and then with all the alcohol, I just saw red.” He looks up and puts fingers to your cheek, cold but bearable. “I’m sorry.”

You touch his fingertips and kiss each one, taking away the cold and warming his hand. You feel the need to cry deep down, but you don’t give into it. “I hated seeing you with her, and I hate that I hated it. And I hated that when I kissed him, I only thought of you.”

“I know.” His smile is sad and small, but he pulls you to him anyway, hands touching your hips while yours fall to his shoulders. You’re close, yet unsure where you stand.

“We’re not fighting fair.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t fight at all.” His lips tease the outline of yours, so close you can feel the soft movement of his breath. You’re scared to get closer than you are now, but you don’t want him to go “I’m done with the games. I don’t want to play them anymore.”

“Hansol—” His kiss silences your reply, and like always, you’re gone and lost in him. In no time, the floor is home to a mess of clothes: his shirt, your shirt, his jacket, and your pants. 

He watches you and how you move against him when he moves away, the only pieces of clothing on your skin being your bra and panties. You never feel self-conscious or embarrassed like this, not when he views you like your body is the one thing he would die cherishing. He explores freely, his hand touching the valley between your breasts and to the center of your thighs, leaving you panting and eager to touch him as much as he’s touching you.

Your hands roam the skin of his chest, soft and faintly bright in the lamplight on your nightstand. They trail lower to undo his belt and ride the denim of his jeans lower down his legs. When your attention comes back to him, he’s unsure of speaking, as though you two are glass, and his next words could shatter you and him to pieces.

“Baby…I-” Hansol chokes, staring so deep into your eyes and wishing he could say what neither of you are fully ready to admit to each other. A small part of you yearns for him to finish, but you know his actions can speak a lot louder than his words, and the two of you are too far in to let go now. 

“Don’t say it. Just kiss me again, please.” With the closing of his eyes, Hansol’s lips slam into yours and leave you breathless, wanting more even though more would never truly be enough when it came to him. He would always leave you suspended, and it only took a taste to fall down again.

A soft breath escapes your lips as his hands move over every part of your body, loving his attention and all it entails. His fingers start at your thighs to hook them closer to his lower body, still covered by his boxers. When he knows you won’t move your legs, they touch your hips before going higher, stopping once he reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra. The straps were already off your arms, and it comes off entirely with a simple flick of his wrist. 

He places his hands on your neck as he kisses you deeper, always handling you with care and never by force. You wouldn’t trade anything for the softness he possesses when he holds onto you, kisses you, and makes you feel wanted.

Kisses that built the two of you in your own world were the best part. You thought you could die from them, especially when they left you ready to combust with each new one. He touches the curve of your mouth, his index finger outlining the base of your bottom lip. “Mine.”

“Yours.” The one word moves him to tug your underwear slowly down your legs, throwing it into the pile you’ve created of your clothes. Friction from your naked body and his thin briefs coming together strains a moan from your throat, knowing the build to a release is starting thanks to the wetness between your legs. You’re sure he feels it, because his next movement removes the last of his clothes, sending it to the floor.

A soft moan resonates between your bodies and through the room when he finally eases in, his lips attaching to your neck while your head falls into the pillow. He groans from finally feeling you, all of you around him and underneath him, and wanting to bask in it and all he feels for you keeps him at a slow and steady rhythm. His hips move in small motions, and it’s the greatest pleasure having his body fit to yours in this way.

Although you love having him inside you and treating you with the care he always gives, you crave something faster and harder. “Move, please.”

“Don’t rush.” He stops altogether, the loss of movement making you whimper. He breathes in softly and touches the base of your neck with his hand, the warmth of it keeping your noises of protest in. “I wanna take my time with you. I always wanna take my time with you.”

He switches from sweet and unhurried thrusts to rough force with the snap of his hips to give into both of your needs. You feel him, slow and fast, paralyzing and intoxicating, and you’re climbing higher. The anticipation to fall leaves your body in suspense, and with another deep thrust, he lets you.

The pleasure is mind-numbingly sweet, stars and moving planets behind your eyes as it washes in waves along your body. Hansol guides you through it, providing you with every drop of your orgasm without missing a beat while he finds his own. By the time you come back to the ground, your eyes are half-open and laced with sweet indulgences coated on your skin.

No words come out as you catch your breath, but you pull him in by the shoulders and meld your chest to his, arms wrapping around his back and face nuzzling into the center of his throat. He doesn’t protest, mirroring your actions and holding onto you tight, as though you could fly away again and never come back. 

You know saying something might calm whatever unsettles him now, but all you have to say lives in this moment, the only place you imagine staying in forever.

* * *

You wake up to Hansol wrapped around you, arms covering your waist and legs tangled over and under one another. He snuggles in closer as you wake up, and you touch the band-aid over his cut and the line of his jaw, awed at how he’s still gorgeous with cuts and light bruises. 

His eyes open as your hand sits against his cheek, and he touches your fingertips with his lips, kissing the pads and smiling gently. “Good morning.”

“Morning to you too.” You move your hand to the skin of his arm, and the charge between you changes. His breathing slowly grows uneven, and he pulls away when you try to move closer to him.

He runs his hands through his hair and sits up from bed, collecting his boxers and putting them on once he’s up. “What are we doing?” For a split second, you’re terrified he’s ready to run. 

“What do you mean?” Sitting up from the bed, your realize you’re still bare from the night before, but you don’t care. You knew last night changed a lot between you both, but it was doubtful if you were ready to confront everything you both were running from. Ready or not, he wasn’t backing down.

“What do you think it means?” You wrap the comforter around yourself as Hansol sits down in your desk chair, now facing you. “Do you wanna know the real reason I didn’t tell you about the party?” His chest heaves up and down in small breaths, trying to push the words he wants to say out.

“I couldn’t have you there while I was trying my hardest to get you off my mind. No matter what, you’re always there. Laughing, smiling,  _being_. And I wouldn’t change it for anything, but being so close to you makes me want more than we have. And the stupid fucking arrangement we agreed to always puts us two steps back without going forward, and I’m done hiding and pretending this is all I want. I won’t lie and say I don’t want to do everything we always do. Tacos and movie weekends, late nights in the radio booth…you and me in this bedroom. But I can’t keep it halfway anymore.”

“Han, I—” 

“Please. Let me say this,” The desperation in his voice isn’t missed, and you can’t force him to stop when you know he’s kept it in for so long. “I want to walk with you to classes only to hate leaving you and kiss you before I go. To make love to you, stay the night, and wake up in the morning to your goofy pout. To boast to my friends how the one girl who changed me is mine and I’m hers completely. To have you touch me in all the ways that make me want you all over again. Most of all, I want to tell you what’s been in my heart for as long as I’ve known you…I love you, I’m  _in_ love with you.”

His hands cup your cheeks, searching your eyes for a response that doesn’t come. Biting his bottom lip to calm the tremble on his face, he’s clearly shaken by his confession and what you’re not telling him.

“Say something?”

The tears fall with the cue of two simple words, your composure shattering instantly with the pieces practically resting at your feet. Your head falls out of his hands and hits his chest as you cry, all while your hands clutch his biceps for support. 

The whimpers and incoherent words forming from your throat silence thanks to the kisses he embeds in your hair. Giving him an answer doesn’t matter now; he knows you feel the same by the hold on his arms and how you can’t let go. Even so, you don’t deny him confirmation.

“I love you too, and I should’ve told you before last night happened. I was just scared. Scared this wouldn’t work or worse,” you whisper, stepping back and gaping at him, the tears still painted on your cheeks. Even if the fear of trying kept you from admitting how you felt about him, the care and love on his face cancels every doubt out of your head and tells you he is as all in as you are. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it.”

“Hey. I was just as scared to say it as you were.” His thumb brushes the arch of your cheekbone, catching the tears in one swipe. A soft smile on his face tells you he’s just happy to know the girl he loves loves him back, and the ache in your chest builds into something better, something worthy of more. “No matter what, and no matter how long it took us to get here, I have you. That’s what counts.”

You laugh amidst your tears and kiss him, touching the spot where he’s bruised by mistake. He lets out a hiss, but he doesn’t stop you. Blushing, you move back. “Sorry, I bet you’re still hurting.”

“Don’t worry.” He sits between your legs and holds onto your hips, nose nuzzling yours and eyes gazing into yours, full with love and infatuation. “Just kiss it better.”

* * *

The Tuesday following your eventful weekend sets you in the library again, quiet compared to what happened days ago. Hansol’s eyes stay on you the entire time you check over Soonyoung’s practice responses. Thankfully, the boys smoothed out the issue Sunday, and there wouldn’t be any bad blood after Saturday night. Your dancing pupil left the two of you to grade, but Hansol wasn’t being a big help.

You wouldn’t lie and say you don’t like when he stares, but your concentration kicks itself out the door the longer he does. “You know, if you wanna keep staring, you’ll have to talk to my  _boyfriend_.”

Hansol laughs and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing your chairs closer together when he does it. It almost distracts you, but you know you have to pay attention when he’s in the mood to tease. “Boyfriend, really? What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s really funny, sweet, talented, _amazing_  in bed,” you reply, his smile growing wider with every word of praise. “But unfortunately for you, he doesn’t like to share.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that the boyfriend in question is me.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed!” You mock surprise, and Hansol laughs while giving your shoulder a tight squeeze. The touch gives you the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder, fitting perfectly into the dip of his neck. “I love you being the boyfriend.”

“As much as I love you being the girlfriend?” You’re sure most couples didn’t care about the labels, but you loved them. While they were a bit corny to use all the time to the average person, the new terms of endearment made you light up and you didn’t care who saw it.

“That’s debatable.“

“Okay, you’re both grossly adorable, but can you please let my tutor check if I’m going to pass this final, Han,” Soonyoung huffs as he sits across from you, making it aware he’s back. His nose is a little scraped from the cuts, but otherwise, he looks as good as new and still kicking with sass. Joshua sits down beside him and flips through a guitar catalog, amused at the show he’s watching.

“Eighty-nine. Congratulations, math wiz.” Soonyoung’s fist sours into the air, and he gives you a large high-five and thanks you again for your help before he zips out of the library.

“My girl is smart.” Hansol grabs your hand, now free of papers and red pens, and he puts it to his mouth to kiss. 

You sigh happily, legs touching his and keeping yourself within a close distance. “My boy is sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you.” He sets your hand down on your knee and puts his over it, feeling the proximity and touching you with elation on his face.

“You guys could do this all day, you know,” Joshua huffs and closes the magazine, hand under his chin with a large roll of his eyes. Even with his comments, you aren’t phased and continue showing your boyfriend all the affection you want to.

Hansol turns back to you with another beaming grin. “Hmm, doesn’t sound bad to me, but I think I’d rather kiss you instead.”

“Nobody’s stopping you… _boyfriend_.” You smirk and grab onto the top of Hansol’s jacket and kiss his lips, soft and inviting like they always are. Even when you separate, you smile wide at the open endearment you give him. He peeks at you with the same grin, and only Josh’s cough takes the two of you out of your daze.

“Okay, Soonyoung’s right. You’re adorable  _and_ gross.”

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to my writing blog on tumblr (@chwepen if you'd like to find me there too ♡)!


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